


To Taste, To Speak

by virdant



Series: Emotion is our Shared Tongue [1]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Jedi, Jedi Culture & Tradition (Star Wars), Jedi Culture Respected, Jedi Language, The Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27024937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virdant/pseuds/virdant
Summary: But the Force is everywhere, and every one of the Jedi, from the younglings in the creche, to the old retired Masters, speak the same language. They learn it at the crechemaster’s knees, the shape of the language. They learn the patterns of Basic: the sounds that make up each word and phrase and sentence. They learn the patterns of Galactic Standard Sign: the shapes that make up each word and phrase and sentence. And they learn the patterns of their own language: the ebb and flow of the Force that make up each word and phrase and sentence. When they stand, as initiates, as Jedi, they do not need to speak with their mouths, do not need to speak with their hands.Luminous beings, we are, Master Yoda says. And they are: so much more than their physical shells.--There are thousands of different species, with different languages and voices and hands, but what all Jedi have in common is the Force, and with the Force, they have language.
Series: Emotion is our Shared Tongue [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973686
Comments: 12
Kudos: 141





	To Taste, To Speak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BloodyMary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyMary/gifts), [Aliche13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aliche13/gifts).



> in the midst of merry giving us a lecture on linguistics, weird hours crew started brainstorming how to communicate in the Force and at one point somebody said TASTE and i said: i love writing about food.
> 
> a little scribble for merry and aliche, who both very enthusiastically dragged me into writing about FORCE LANGUAGE. Thank you so much to merry for feeding me so much linguistics knowledge and making sure that I did not goof. :)

Crechemaster Lurtolo holds him close—presses the Force in a pattern. It tastes like warm soup on a cold day, savory and filling. There’s something rich in the taste—like cream, or milk—something warm and comforting. It fills him, suffuses his skin. 

There is no need for words; the Force is a language of its own. Gunyekka is only a youngling, still learning how to contort his voice in roars, how to curl his fingers in precise ways. But the Force does need a voice, does not need a gesture. In the Force, all things are understandable.

Not simple—language is never too simple. But the Jedi are one with the Force, and the Force is with them, and to speak and listen with the Force is something they learn as younglings in the creche. The crechemasters speak to them, not just with their voice, or with their hands, but with the enveloping presence of the Force. They push and pull it, in patterns, with intention; the pattern builds and builds.

Gunyekka is only a youngling, but he understands. This feeling of a warm meal on a cold day, of being full—it means that he is loved.

* * *

Gunyekka is a padawan; he speaks in Shyriiwook to Master Soln, and Master Soln speaks Sullustan back. But more than their voice, they speak with the Force.

Gunyekka’s mouth fills with bitterness when Master Soln reaches to him in the Force, a warning, a danger echoing. He reaches back, shaping the Force into the patterns he learned in the creche to call for assistance. It is more than just intention: he molds the Force in the same way he does when he plays Push Feather, he strings it between him and his Master in layers and pulses, until it forms the shape of his intention, and then he sends it.

It is no different from when he speaks, letting his lungs fill with air as he twists sounds into the correct patterns. It is his voice; it is the Force.

He tastes the fresh clean taste of mint, a trail of sweetness underneath. It is a cool drink on a warm day. It is light and ease. May the Force be with you, Master Soln is saying.

* * *

It is not a language, they say. You have no words for ears to hear. Your hands to not make shapes for eyes to see. You are voiceless, they say.

But the Force is everywhere, and every one of the Jedi, from the younglings in the creche, to the old retired Masters, speak the same language. They learn it at the crechemaster’s knees, the shape of the language. They learn the patterns of Basic: the sounds that make up each word and phrase and sentence. They learn the patterns of Galactic Standard Sign: the shapes that make up each word and phrase and sentence. And they learn the patterns of their own language: the ebb and flow of the Force that make up each word and phrase and sentence. When they stand, as initiates, as Jedi, they do not need to speak with their mouths, do not need to speak with their hands.

Luminous beings, we are, Master Yoda says. And they are: so much more than their physical shells. 

Every Jedi: from all of the Masters on Council to the initiates, and even Gunyekka himself. They can reach for the Force, can touch it, can shape it: so they can speak this language.

The Jedi know: this is the language that we speak, luminous beings that we are.

* * *

Gunyekka stands before the Council, Master Soln before him. They cut his padawan braid. Gunyekka presses it into Master Soln’s hand in offering.

Gunyekka shapes the Force into the first pattern he learned, at Crechemaster Lurtolo’s side. He remembers it: warm soup in his mouth, savory and filling and full of promise.

His mouth shapes the words for the ceremony. He speaks them in Shyriiwook. Master Soln replies in Sullustan, the way they always do. But in the Force, there is another conversation. It stretches between them, like a thread.

Gunyekka tastes: the soup is warm, creamy, with a touch of acidity. It bursts in his mouth, bright and sharp: not the bitterness of danger, but not the steady presence of love. It is the excitement and pride of seeing Gunyekka knighted. As the moment stretches out, there is also, underneath, a curling smoke of grief to see a padawan leave.

I am here, Gunyekka says. Master Soln will sense it, will let it suffuse him in the way that he learned to interpret the Force. I am here, and though I leave you now, I carry your tutelage with me.

And, in his mouth, the smoke eases. It is bright and warm in his mouth. And, with another wash of the Force, Gunyekka tastes mint and sweetness. It is a familiar pattern, one learned in the creche, one that he has tasted over and over throughout the years of his training. He has tasted it from the crechemasters, from his instructors, from his fellow padawans. He has tasted it from every Jedi he has ever known.

May the Force be with you, Master Soln says.

And Gunyekka replies, like the soft glow of a sunrise: May the Force be with you.

**Author's Note:**

> here's how you can find me:
> 
>   * find me in salt flats
>   * Follow me on twitter [@virdant](http://www.twitter.com/virdant/)
>   * [Like & retweet on twitter]()
>   * Comment and kudo below
> 



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